Why I'm Different
by madeleine68
Summary: Post-"Shaken" oneshot. What if Elliot had talked to Olivia in the bar instead of Cragen? Please review!


**Disclaimer: If you've seen them on the show, they're not mine. They belong to Dick Wolf.**

**This is a my post-**_**Shaken **_**oneshot. What if Elliot had talked to Olivia instead of Cragen? I know it's been done before, but I had this idea. Enjoy.**

I'm sitting in an anonymous bar down the street from the precinct, downing my fifth drink, when a tall brunette slides into a stool beside me. "Hey, stranger."

She pulls me away from my reverie and I glance up. _Olivia. _I should have known.

I raise my right hand in greeting but don't verbally reply. Instead, I have another sip of my beer, turning my head purposefully away from her.

She signals for the bartender to come over and orders her own drink. Then she fixes her chocolate eyes on me and says, "You know, Elliot, I want to help you but before I can do that, you need to tell me what's wrong."

I'm falling again, into the bottomless pools of brown, boring into my soul. I can never lie to her when she looks at me like that and she knows it. That's why the victims always feel so comfortable talking to her. There's something in those eyes that makes you feel immediately at ease, something that makes you want to bear your soul and tell her what's troubling you because you know you can trust her. It almost bothers me that she's speaking to me as if I'm a victim, but at the same time, it's strangely comforting.

I try to figure out how to word this. "I just don't know about Evelyn Pritchard." Then I pause, unsure how to continue. This case has got to me in a way few others have and I don't know what to make of it.

Olivia waits a beat, then encourages me with a gentle, "What about her?"

"I don't know if she's a good mother who loves her daughter and made one bad mistake or if she's a bad mother who sees her daughter as a burden and she's snowed us all."

"Well, the jury seemed to think she was guilty," comments the brunette.

I sigh, "I know. And that little girl was hurt so badly – but then, you don't have kids, so you don't know. Sometimes a baby's crying is the most frustrating thing in the entire world. And you're already on edge because you've barely slept in a week and the kid just won't shut up!" I take a deep breath and decide to tell her, even though I know she'll hate me for it. "When Maureen was really little, Kathy went out and left me alone with her for one night. I gave her a glass of grape juice and told her to be careful. But – but she spilled the juice all over our new white carpet that we'd bought even though we couldn't really afford it. And I was so angry at her that I picked her up and I smacked my baby girl across the face. She started to scream and then I raised my hand to hit her again and she went limp in my arms – and then, there I was, holding my limp baby girl in my arms and I thought – oh, my God, Liv. I could have killed my little girl over a fucking carpet!" The memory is still there, so raw that I bury my head in my hands to stop myself from breaking down. Suddenly, I want to hit something and I'm afraid I actually will.

Finally, I dare to glance at Olivia. She's sitting motionless, just watching me, and the second I see the expression on her face I realize what a mistake I've made in telling her. Her own mother beat her when she was a child and I know that telling her that I'd hit my own daughter when she was too little to fight back definitely wouldn't endear me to my partner.

After what feels like an eternity, Olivia speaks. I flinch at the sound of her measured, gentle tone as she says quietly, "But Elliot, you didn't."

"I almost did," I insist, surprised at my good fortune. I thought Olivia was going to lecture me, yell at me, insult me, even tell me to get lost because she's so disgusted. Maybe I even wanted her to react like that, to assuage some of my guilt. But instead, she's speaking in that soft, calm voice. That hurts even more.

"Elliot, you're different from Evelyn Pritchard. You stopped yourself. She didn't. And Maureen is one of the most polite, well-behaved girls I've ever met. You must have done _something _right."

Seizing the reprieve she's granted me, I jump at the opportunity. "I learned, Olivia. I never hit any of my kids ever again."

"And that's what makes you such a good father," says Olivia. "You love your kids and you'd never want to hurt them. Yes, you made a mistake, but that's _all _it was and you never did it again. My mom hit me when I was a kid. If she had done it once, said she was sorry, and never did it again, I would have forgiven her. But she did it over, and over, and over, and over. It wasn't a mistake. It was something that she did because she _wanted_ to. But Elliot, you're nothing like my mother. My mother hated me and that's why she hurt me. You love your kids and didn't mean to hurt them."

I sigh and lean back in my chair, feeling better already. How is it that she always knows just what to say?

**So I hope you liked it. Please review if you did!**


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